


The Art of Being Hopeful

by animehead



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animehead/pseuds/animehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new world with new people, but somehow nothing has really changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Being Hopeful

It’s startling just how similar this new world is compared to the old one. The trees, the oceans, the sights, scents, and sounds… they’re all the same. 

But the _people_ are different. 

But they seem nice. And even if Barnaby can’t quite understand the language, he still nods his head politely. He wants to communicate with them, wants to understand their dialect, converse with them in their native tongue. But he’s a tourist, an outsider looking in and it’s difficult. 

He’s tried a few times, flirting around with very light chitchat that doesn’t really go anywhere, but he refuses to refer to the attempts as failures. He hasn’t failed. He just needs to analyze more, study longer, try harder. He’s much too stubborn to quit. But still…

_He’s lonely_. 

He does his shopping alone, eats alone, drinks alone— and sometimes he’s okay with that. It’s quiet and peaceful and he sits back and reflects on his life and what’s he’s accomplished so far. 

Sometimes he even thinks about home. The other world he’s left behind, the one he knows is waiting for him  to come back. And the thought is pleasant. But there’s no one in particular waiting for him back home. No one who will be _thrilled_ to upon his return. 

_No one who needs him._

So when the loneliness becomes too much to bear, Barnaby makes more of an effort. He initiates conversation in the most subtle of ways. 

_He asks for directions._

And sometimes it works. More often than not, they’ll do their best to give him directions to get him to the places that he needs to be. They’re never really complete, those directions. Most of the time people hand him a torn off sections of the same map that he has to somehow figure out and glue together to begin his journey. Sometimes they ignore him completely.  

Every now and then someone kind offers him a ride, but their taste in music is awful and they’re no better at conversing than he is, so he limits his interactions with them. 

But thanks to those people, he has a map— even if it’s frayed and held together with scotch tape— and he’s able to reach his destination. 

So Barnaby slips in under the tent and he’s mesmerized by the colorful lights and the amazing talent holding the crowd’s attention. The place is packed and there’s nowhere to sit, but Barnaby is fine with standing up in the back. He knows he probably won’t be there long and it’ll be easy to slip out without causing any type of interruption. 

There’s so much talent beneath that tent and Barnaby finds himself wishing he was a part of the act. From the ringleader to the people who clean up after the elephants, they’re all graceful and beautiful and amazing and for a brief moment, Barnaby closes his eyes and imagines himself as someone that the crowd would pay to see. He wonders what it would be like to walk across the tightrope, or swallow fire, or bravely stick his head inside a lion’s mouth. And maybe he _could_ do one of those things or _all_ of those things, and—

“Alex! Alex! Over here! I saved you a seat!”

But he’d be happy to settle for simply being someone sitting in the crowd with a friend or a lover, pressed together and happy as they watch the performances. 

Barnaby doesn’t stay for the entire show, but what he does stay for, he enjoys. He slips out easily, leaving the giant red and white tent, leaving the ringleader, the lion tamer, the tightrope walker, and the crowd. 

But he’ll come back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. He’ll continue to come back and he’ll stand in the back and he’ll admire the talent and the crowd and this new world filled with fabulous people that he has yet to really know. 

And he’ll stay hopeful that one day he’ll stop and chat with the ticket booth operator and promise to have that coffee that they’ve been talking about for weeks. And he’ll stay hopeful that when he slips inside that tent, he’ll wave at the ringleader who’ll nod his head and wink at him as he settles at the back. And he’ll stay hopeful that as he searches through the crowd, he’ll hear someone calling out to him, waving franticly as they try to gain his attention. 

“Barnaby! Barnaby! Over here! I saved you a seat!” 

And maybe, just _maybe_ , he won’t feel so lonely anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what I do at 2AM when I’m feeling gloomy… There may or may not be a ton of symbolism here. One day I hope to write a second part where Barnaby ends up finding that person who will wave at him. 
> 
> I swear one day I’ll get out of this circus/carnival theme thing. I don’t know why it’s stuck for so long!


End file.
